19 Dove #2
“Yes…” I said slowly, swallowing down my feelings. “We came into some luck about a year ago. We were able to rebuild our lives and our wealth a bit. If we’re careful, we should be stable again within another year or two.”
“Luck?”
I licked my lips, not knowing what to say. “Well, an old relative of my mother’s family—a great-aunt out in the Isles, she, ah, died suddenly. We inherited some coin and were able to reinvest…”
The lie that my parents and I had practiced, the one we’d begun seeding out to avoid suspicion, felt like cold metal on my tongue.
I looked into Maerryl’s questioning eyes, her comforting touch on my wrist never stopping.
I’d wanted to tell someone my secret for so long.
Tell someone about my magic, share it rather than keeping it hidden, hoarding it for our family.
“Actually,” I said hesitantly. “Actually, that’s not true. There is no relative.”
Maerryl’s eyes widened, a strange flicker of unease crossing her face. But she still brushed my wrist. I wasn’t stopping now. The words were coming, bubbling up, and it felt good, like a confession. Like a release.
“It’s me. I fixed everything for us, in the end. I have magic. It’s beautiful. I’m able to—”
Maerryl’s lips were suddenly there, stopping the rush of my words. She pushed me back, mouth hard against mine, tense and hurried.
I froze for a moment, then my body relaxed against the feel of her, already responding instinctively though we’d done this just a few times.
I ran my hands up her arms to those strong shoulders I loved, firm muscle under my fingers, and squeezed.
She responded, lips softening to cover mine more fully even as she shifted to press me against the rug, cradling my head in her hands.
I let my touch move down her sides, along her spine.
She groaned when I reached her lower back, a guttural sigh that shot flames straight to my cunt, and I stroked her there again, rubbing circles against her bare skin.
The blanket fell away. Maerryl’s lips moved to my neck, my ear, finding that spot just behind my lobe that made me tingle and lean into her.
“You do like that, sweet. Don’t you?” she murmured low, kissing there again. I nodded, unable to speak from the pleasure curling in my stomach. She traveled lower, down to where my loose tunic buttoned, her nose nudging the collar down, far down.
“And here?” she said. My body warmed against her.
“Yes,” I whispered. She leaned back, strong legs at my hip and between my thighs, and I moved with her, burning perfectly everywhere we met. I’ve never laid down on this rug before, I thought distantly. It’s nice. Soft. Glad I went with the extra thick bamboo silk after all.
It suddenly hit that this was Maerryl, filling my arms and kissing me, again, like it was the only thing she wanted to do in this world. We were supposed to talk more. Figure out what this was between us.
And then she bit the top button right off my tunic.
Spat it off to the side and gave me her most evil, sexy grin, almost wolfish in her satisfaction.
“What are you—hey! This is new, you fiend!” I pouted, playfully swatting her. She snatched the hand, holding me in a light grip against the rug now and took another button in her teeth, tearing it off too. I fake-gasped, then tickled her side with my free hand.
She practically growled, gathering up both hands above my head. My heart raced, chest moving faster underneath her as she lowered her teeth to me again. I felt her leg push firmly between my thighs, the pressure a perfect ache. Rocking against it, I heard myself whine. My eyes squeezed shut.
Her pleased rasp curled around me. “This is good for you, sweet? You like me holding you down?”
“Yes,” I gasped out. “Yes—need. Need more.”
I heard Maerryl’s pleased sound, deep in her throat, then the rip of another button.
And another. Hot air touched my breasts, and her mouth—her mouth was there, taking my left nipple in completely, tongue swirling around it to a hard bud.
I wriggled, trying to reach the other one, to touch myself, but her grip held me tight.
Not hurting. But firm. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I have you, my dove. This is what you want, right?” Wet heat covered my right nipple now, her free hand moving from where it stroked my hair to my other tit, kneading just right, then rolling the bud between her calloused fingers.
I moaned, lost. Pleasure was building low in my belly, tight and ready where I rocked against her leg, my skirts riding up.
Still wet from before, from the stairwell when she touched me there for the first time and set my clit on a never-ending ache.
I needed the ache to stop. Needed more, needed her. “Please,” I gasped. “Please, Maerryl.”
Her breath was nearly as fast as mine now, her gaze hard and wanting.
I saw her breasts hanging over me, taut nipples just touching my chest, exposed where she’d torn open the front of my shirt.
I arched my back to press closer against her, wanting everything to be nearer.
Reaching her hand down, she pulled my skirts up the rest of the way.
Fierce eyes locked with mine, panting slightly, she tugged my underwear aside and buried two fingers into me.
I cried out in pleasure, clenching my thighs around her.
“Shhh, Dove, shh.” Maerryl curled her fingers slowly, then faster, finding the right spot and rhythm as I moved under her. Her thumb brushed lightly against my clit, and I cried out again, but she covered it with a kiss, capturing my ecstasy with her mouth.
My hands were released. I reached for her, holding her bare back, tangling myself in her short hair.
I felt the press of her palm against my cheek, the heat of her in my cunt.
Then I was gone, exploding, pressing Maerryl tightly to me with all my strength through the force of my orgasm and gasping, gasping.
She held me through it, movements slowing gradually, nuzzling my cheek, my hair.
I felt sweat at my brow and didn’t know if it was hers or mine, didn’t care.
Somehow our breathing calmed, and I turned to where she lay on her side, gazing into the dying fire with her arms wrapped around me. I reached for her belt buckle, but she stilled my hand. Gently this time. And leaned forward to kiss me again.